Only Living Boy in New York
by eidechse
Summary: Sequel to Afraid.  JohnnyDally slash.  He remembered one moment in particular: the color of the sun, the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs wafting up from the grimy diner downstairs, the feel of Dally's hair as Johnny reached out to touch it.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: slash. Title shamelessly stolen from simon and garfunkel. This may be converted to original fiction at some point and moved to fictionpress. Also, I'm not a gay man, I was born in the eighties, and I've only been to New York once in jr high, so forgive me if I mess things up in any of those areas. This is a sequel to my story Afraid ( ) but you don't have to read that unless you want to. Now please read. And review.

Only Living Boy in New York

Prologue

"Ramblin' outa the wild West,  
Leavin' the towns I love the best.  
Thought I'd seen some ups and down,  
"Til I come into New York town.  
People goin' down to the ground,  
Buildings goin' up to the sky."

-- Bob Dylan, _Talking New York_

It had taken Johnny most of a year to get used to the noise in New York. The horns, the yells, the music playing in the room a floor above theirs. When he and Dally had first moved into their crumbling studio apartment, he'd spent most of his nights lying awake, startled back from sleep by a car horn or a loud laugh below the open window. Some nights, his tossing and turning would wake up Dally and the other boy would grumble and push him out of the bed onto the floor with a blanket.

But within a year, he'd gotten used to the hustle and bustle of New York. He wasn't sure that he liked it exactly-- sometimes he would prefer an open sky instead of dirty buildings crowded in front of the stars; he'd like a lazy summer afternoon playing football with the gang in the empty lot. But it had occurred to him that this place felt more like home than Tulsa ever had as he lay there on a summer morning in bed with Dally sleeping next to him. Sun was coming in the open window, falling across the discolored walls and dingy furniture in the room, making all of it look beautiful.

He remembered one moment in particular for years: the color of the sun, the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs wafting up from the grimy diner downstairs, the feel of Dally's hair as Johnny reached out to touch it where it spilled across the pillow.

He carried the memory with him, through all of the hard times when the sky was gray and Dally wasn't next to him. He carried it across the city with him, through grimy apartments where the sun never touched, when he walked down the streets with people whose hair wasn't soft like Dally's. He wasn't sure if he carried it with him as a promise that things could get better, or a reminder that his life would never be as good again.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: realized I didn't put a disclaimer in. So. If y'all hadn't figured it out yet, the characters of Johnny and Dally aren't actually mine (amazing, I know). I am using them for my own gratuitous writing purposes. I don't think that there's anything to suggest that they are in a romantic/sexual relationship in the book, I just wanted to write a slash story, so I did. Oh, and New York isn't mine either, I don't even live there. and the title isn't mine. Or the Bob Dylan lyrics in the prologue. I did a lot of research for this, so a lot of the ideas aren't mine, either, they're things I stumbled on while reading about NYC in the sixties. And um... yeah. Basically, none of this is mine. I'm just stringing words together to put all of these other people's stuff together into a story.

Chapter One

I drove to New York  
in a van, with my friend  
we slept in parking lots  
I don't mind, I don't mind   
I was in love with the place  
in my mind, in my mind  
I made a lot of mistakes  
in my mind, in my mind 

-Sufjan Stevens, _Chicago_

Things changed suddenly. When Johnny looked back on it, he could pinpoint the exact moment that he and Dally took the first step away from each other, started their slipping and sliding down completely different paths.

Hot out that afternoon, one of the first real hots days of the year. The pavement of the sidewalk seemed to shimmer and distort in the hot air. He and Dally were walking back from the gas station, colas sweating wetness onto their hands, cool sweet gulps as they walked. "Hey!" someone yelled from behind them. "Hey, Dally!"

They turned, together and surprised, to see a dark haired greaser picking his way through an alley toward them. Dally was frowning as he studied the other boy, pale eyebrows drawing together over icy blue eyes. The other greaser was smiling at Dally with familiarity, coming up closer than people usually would to a stranger on a street in New York. He grinned at Dally. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

Dally shrugged. "Nah." He looked a little wary, but his stance was relaxed- the guy wasn't intimidating even to Johnny, let alone Dally.

The greaser flashed a goofy grin. "Why ya gotta hurt my feelings like that, Dallas? Don'tcha remember little Jamey? And here I thought we was like brothers."

"Jamey?" Dally's eyebrows raised, Johnny could see surprise in his expression as he took another look at the stranger. "Jamey Freelan?"

"Aw, I knew you wouldn't go and forget me." Jamey punched Dally in the arm. "I wouldn'ta recognized ya, cept Bobby said you was livin in New York again. How ya been?"

Dally shrugged. "Fine. How're you? How's your ma and your old man?"

"Good, good, they'd like to see ya, I think, Ma still talks about you every so often. '_You ever hear from Dallas? How's Dallas doing in Oklahoma?"_

Dally laughed, then looked at Johnny. "This here's Jamey Freelan," he said. "I stayed with him a while back when I was a kid here."

"You migratin' people from Tulsa with ya, Dally?" Jamey asked.

"Just one. This is Johnny."

The two exchanged greetings, followed by an awkward silence.

"Well, Dally," Jamey said after a moment. "Nice seein' ya. You should stop in and see Ma, she'd really like it."

"Yeah, I will. Sometime."

"Right. Well, I'll see ya around."

"Yeah."

They'd walked a quarter of the way down the block when Jamey called them back. "Hey, I almost forgot... There's a party tonight, if you two wanna come. A lotta the old gang is gonna be there."

Dally hesitated, looked at Johnny. The boy shrugged. "Sure, why not," he said, turning back to Jamey. "Where's it at?"

"Bobby's place? You remember? Still livin right where he grew up, the baby. 'Cept his families all gone, but he's still there."

Dally laughed. "Yeah, I remember. Lived there his whole life."

"He ain't changed a bit, either," Jamey said, laughing too. "Anyway, I'll see you two there, maybe?" He shrugged, grinned first at Dally, then Johnny, and was gone as suddenly as he'd appeared, down the street and round the corner.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to, Johnny," Dally said once Jamey was gone, looking over at the other boy.

"Nah, that's fine, I'd like to meet your old gang," Johnny replied.

Dally grinned, reaching out and roughly ruffling Johnny's hair in a gesture more befitting an older brother or an uncle than a lover. Johnny shot him an annoyed look; Dally removed the hand with a sheepish look. "Sorry."

"Better be," Johnny teased, grinning. They walked down the sun drenched street.

------

Johnny was bored. It wasn't really Dally's fault, he was catching up with all his old friends, and at some point during the night, Johnny had gotten tired of trailing after him like some kind of lost puppy. Getting introduced and then standing there while the conversation turned to stories of rumbles he hadn't been in, parties he hadn't been to, and people he didn't know. After a while, he'd stolen Dally's pack of Kools and gone to sit on the moth bitten couch and chain smoke by himself.

Johnny didn't really like Kools, but he'd finished off his own pack of cigarettes that afternoon, nervous about the party but not about to admit it to Dally. He wasn't sure why finding out about Dally's past made him nervous, all he knew was that it felt weird to be here: seeing a glimpse of Dally's life before he'd been a part of it.

He didn't notice that there was a man standing next to him until he was fumbling next to him for his lighter to light his next cigarette, and a flame appeared in front of his nose. He pulled back, startled, and heard a voice laughing beside him.

"Sorry," the man said. "I couldn't resist." The stranger's lighter danced back at Johnny's face. "Here, light your smoke, it's the least I can do after scaring you like that."

Johnny leaned forward and inhaled, imagining the end of the cigarette bursting into orange and red life. "Thanks," he said, after exhaling.

"Like I said, least I could do," the guy said. "Can I sit?" 

"Yeah, sure," Johnny said. He wouldn't mind some company, he'd started to feel a little pathetic sitting all by himself while the party lived around him.

Johnny only got a good look at the guy when he sat down. He didn't really look like he belonged here, in this apartment with the people that were around them. For one thing, he was at least seven or eight years older than Johnny or anyone else there, easily more. For another, he simply didn't look like a greaser. Nor did he look like a soc. Here in New York, of course, the social groups weren't quite as clear cut as they'd been back in Tulsa, but Johnny still wasn't sure what to make of the guy.

"What's your name? I haven't seen you around before." The guy had lit a cigarette of his own and was leaning back, comfortable and relaxed, into the couch.

"Johnny. I'm here with Dally."

"Oh, really?" The guy smiled. It looked real, but Johnny still felt uneasy; something was telling him how that mouth would be good at making fake smiles look genuine. "You're the one he brought back from Tulsa with him?"

"Yeah," Johnny said. "How do you know Dally?"

"He used to live with my family. I'm Jamey's brother. I'm Alan, by the way. Alan Freelan."

Johnny blinked at him. It was hard to imagine this man being related to the goofy greaser he'd met earlier that day, but now that he knew they were related, he started to see a few similarities-- their brown eyes, for instance, and their tall, wiry frames.

"I'm actually really only here because Jamey told me Dallas would be here," Alan was continuing. "I don't really fit in too well with Jamey's crowd. But I wanted to see Dallas. And-" Alan shifted his eyes from where they'd been gazing lazily at Dally back to Johnny. "And I wanted to meet you."

"Me?" Johnny was starting to feel nervous. He wasn't sure whether he liked the guy or not, and he definitely made Johnny feel a little uncomfortable.

"Yes. You. I have a few questions. About... you and Dallas. Only if you want to answer, of course."

"Me? And Dally?" Johnny knew he hadn't been displaying very impressive conversation skills, but he couldn't really think of anything else to say.

"Yes. But... not here. I know you don't want everyone to know."

Johnny frowned, glancing sharply over at Alan. He knew. _How did he know? _

"Would you like to meet me sometime?" Alan asked. "I think you'd find some of the things I could tell you about Dally very interesting.

Johnny swallowed.

"C'mon," Alan said, grinning. "It'd be fun, I promise. A bar, maybe, a few drinks, nothing serious, I just wanna talk about Dally is all. You'll see."

Johnny shrugged. "Uh... sure. Where...?"

Alan smiled. It was a smile that fit him better than the open smile he'd given before. This smile made Johnny squirm in his seat. "Ever been to Stonewall?" Alan asked.


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: I think this is going to get moved over to fictionpress, but I thought I'd post another chapter here, because it'll probably take me a while to turn it into original fiction. This chapter... could be better.

CHAPTER 2

Stonewall Bar wasn't like anything that Johnny had ever experienced. He understood immediately why Alan had brought him there-- all the people there were men—and more than a few boys-- flirting with and dancing with each other. Johnny swallowed, not sure what he felt.

No one bothered to check his ID as he walked in-- something that he'd been a little worried about, he knew some bars did, and his—if he had even had one, which he didn't-- would betray that he still had another year left until he turned 18 and could legally be there. He was supposed to meet Alan, so he'd come by himself. He'd spent a good five, maybe ten minutes in the shadows in the park across the street, working up the nerve to actually approach the door.

Once inside, he picked his way cautiously through the crowds of men to the wall, which he leaned against, trying to look like someone that didn't actually exist and certainly wasn't worth a conversation or pick up line.

He thought he was mostly succeeding. He had gotten a few glances his way, but he tried to push himself back further into the wall and look uninteresting (maybe diseased), and it seemed to be working.

He was watching a woman who he belated realized was a man when someone sidled up to lean against the wall next to him. He jumped, just a bit, and then blushed. Glad that the darkness would hide his childlike pink cheeks.

"Hey, you look nervous," the someone said, softly, practically into his ear. There was a hint of amusement there, but Johnny didn't really think he was being made fun of-- the voice was low, soft, and mostly kind.

"Um," Johnny replied lamely, pulling away and blinking at the source of the voice. The guy was not too much older than Johnny, with a head of dark blond hair that was sticking in a lot of different directions and looked like it could use some shampoo and water. He was small and very thin, but the way he was slouched against the wall made Johnny think of someone much taller.

The guy laughed. "I'm Trevor. First time here?" 

"Yeah," Johnny admitted, feeling a little silly. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, but he's not..."

"Boyfriend?" the guy asked.

"No!" Johnny answered, realizing once the word was out of his mouth how ridiculous he had sounded, answering so immediately and loudly. No need to shout it so vehemently.

The guy laughed again, louder this time. He had a nice laugh. Open and unashamed.

"Pretty sure about that, huh? Who is this guy, then?"

"Just... someone I met," Johnny was feeling a little uncomfortable under this questioning, he wasn't sure why this boy cared so much about who he was meeting.

"What's his name?" Trevor asked. "I know 'em all, I can tell you who to stay away from."

"Alan..." Johnny tried to remember the last name. "Freeman?"

"Alan Freelan?" the boy asked.

"Yeah, that's it."

The other boy raised his eyebrows. "No wonder you're so sure he's not your boyfriend. Keep it that way, kid."

"Yeah?"

"He's got a reputation for being an asshole. Just don't fuck him anyway."

"I'm not going to," Johnny said. He felt a little shocked that the boy would say this, but he supposed he shouldn't be.

Trevor looked at him for a second, seeming to consider something, then he shrugged. "Good. Make sure it stays that way."

Johnny shrugged. He was suddenly a little annoyed. This guy had no right to tell him who he could and couldn't sleep with, and even if the idea of sex with Alan made him shiver, it was still a choice he could make, if he wanted. He was glad when he finally saw Alan coming through the crowd toward them.

"Okay," the boy said, with a quick smile when Johnny excused himself. "If you want to find me, I'm pretty much always here. Remember what I said about Alan, hey? Don't do anything dumb. See you around, maybe." And with that, he'd melted back into the crowd.

"Who was that?" Alan asked as he walked up.

"No one," Johnny shrugged. "Just some guy I was talking to."

Alan smiled at him, all teeth. "Better be careful who you talk to here, Johnny," he said, emphasizing the word 'talk' and drawing out Johnny's name into a drawl. "So, how do you like Stonewall?"

"It's... interesting," Johnny said, for lack of a better word. He wasn't really sure how he felt about it.

Alan laughed. "It's a dump, but hey, it's our dump, yeah?"

"Mmm," Johnny murmured, noncommittally. "So, what'd you bring me here for?"

"Well, I wanted to show you where the gay men are in New York," Alan said, "God knows Dallas isn't going to." He paused. "Let's sit down. Get drinks. What do you want?" He was already making his way toward the front of the room, toward the bar.

"Uh... It doesn't matter..." Johnny said. He followed in Alan's wake, not sure whether to be angry or not. Alan had brought him here on the pretense of telling him something about Dally, and now this had started to seem more like... a date. The thought made him wince. The last thing he wanted was to be on a date with Alan Freelan, especially after what Trevor had told him. '_Just don't fuck him, anyway.'_ Was that what Alan was planning on?

They sat at a table and Alan handed Johnny a glass, which the boy was relieved to see was just beer. He could drink beer just fine, he knew how much it would take to get him drunk, and he had absolutely no intention of drinking that much.

He took a mouthful, found that it was warm, and set it back on the table in front of him. The light was dim, but he could just make out what looked like a... he leaned closer to take a better look. Yes, a lipstick stain was on the rim.

Alan followed Johnny's gaze to the stain. "Oh," he said, leaning over the table to rub out the print off with his thumb. "This place never washes their glasses very well."

"No," Johnny agreed. He was positive that he wasn't going to get drunk here. After that, he doubted he could take even another drink.

"So," Alan said, taking a gulp of his own drink. "The reason you're here."

Johnny raised his eyebrows and waited.

After a theatrical pause that Johnny thought was completely unnecessary, Alan continued: "I want to hear all about you and Dally. I know you two are together, yeah? I knew the moment Jamie told me that Dallas brought someone back from Tulsa with him."

"How could you know?" Johnny was completely confused. He'd thought that somehow he and Dally had given it away, and now he found that it must have been expected.

Alan looked a little surprised. "Who else would Dallas bring all the way to New York with him?"

"But... how did you guess when I'm not... a girl?"

"Well, of course you weren't a girl. If Dallas ever gave you the impression that he didn't like men, he was lying. He's been fucking—excuse me-- men since he was ten years old."

"Ten years..." Things were starting to become clear to Johnny, slowly. "You... and Dally...?"

"Yes, of course, I thought you knew." Alan looked genuinely surprised. "Before he left for Oklahoma."

"How would I know?" Another thought occurred to Johnny, and made his stomach turn much harder than the dirty glass had. "How old are you?"

For the first time, Alan looked a little guarded. "I'm twenty-eight."

"So you were... were..." Johnny was struggling to do the math in his head. "Twenty. You were twenty years old!"

"Nineteen." Alan shrugged. "He wanted it. It didn't matter."

"He was _ten." _Johnny couldn't put his thoughts into words. "_Ten years old._ And you were_ twenty."_

"Nineteen." Alan corrected him.

"_It doesn't matter!_" Johnny realized he was on his feet, his voice getting louder and louder. "Why would _one year_ matter? He was _ten."_

"Look, sit down." Alan looked uncomfortable for the first time, glancing around them at people who were starting to stare. "It happens all the time, ask anyone here. Shit, I was eleven, not much older. Half the kids here at this place are fourteen."

"I'm...I'm going," Johnny stammered, shoving back his chair and pushing through the people toward the door. He could hear Alan's voice behind him, but he couldn't tell what the guy was saying, and he didn't want to. He could barely breath, even after he'd struggled his way out onto the street and stood, breathing in gasps, against the side of the bar. He didn't know why he was so horrified, he knew things like that did happen, he knew of all the girls back in Tulsa not much older than ten down at the Dingo in short skirts awkwardly flirting with guys his age and older. But this wasn't some anonymous girl back in Tulsa, this was Dally, and the thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Hey, you okay?"

Johnny turned his head. It was the guy from earlier, Trevor. He shrugged. "Yeah. Sure. Fine."

"You wanna smoke?" Trevor had a cigarette between his lips before Johnny had replied, lighting it and taking a drag and then passing it to Johnny. Johnny could feel where Trevor's lips had been, and the thought did something else to his stomach. He inhaled and closed his eyes, relaxing almost immediately.

"Thanks."

Trevor smiled understandingly. "No problem. You wanna talk?"

Johnny wasn't sure what this kid could tell him, this kid with his dirty hair who had admitted to being "pretty much always" at a gay bar. But he nodded, just the same. "Sure. Yeah. That'd be nice."


End file.
